


The fourth kind

by amitye



Category: Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
Genre: Arguing, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Forced Marriage, M/M, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, not really but not a very enthusiastic one either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 15:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13126122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amitye/pseuds/amitye
Summary: There are four sorts of people in the world: one sort loves nobody and hates nobody - they are the happiest people. Others, who hate everybody, are all scoundrels. The third sort love anybody who happens to be around them at the moment and are indifferent to everyone else - there are more of those in Moscow than you can count and they are all fools. And then there are those like me, If I love anyone, I love them so much that I will give my life for them, and I will crush all the rest if they get in my way or the way of those I love.Sonya accepts Dolokhov's proposal. Who everyone loves and how much they do is not entirely irrelevant to her choice.





	The fourth kind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alley_Skywalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/gifts).



> * I got the quote in the summary from the early draft of War and Peace, the one with the weirdly happy ending, it just felt very right.
> 
> I'll preface this is an hot mess because I took too long picking my prompt, I realized I couldn't write Dolokhov for shit when it was already too late to change it and frankly anyone would forget how to English language if they got assigned to make a gift for this girl here. It's just understandable.  
> Anyway happy holidays Alley, I hope I didn't make you regret signing up!

He should have realized a girl with such an heart would not change her mind in three days for real. He should have realized no normal family would have let him alone with their daughter, but he had thought that he had charmed Count Rostov into thinking he was a good match and worthy of Sofia, not that already no one had bothered to think Sofia had any worth. He went into the parlor were she was waiting without giving a thought to all of this and she almost jumped up from her armchair and when he kissed her hand she flinched and spoke with a strange voice, too high and quick.  
"I was a fool, a real fool to reject you. I was frightened, that's why, I didn't stop to think. But I am so glad, so glad you proposed to me and that all the trouble you had with my family can come to and end." She had the same bright, fixed smile he had seen on Hélène when they were at the dinner table with Pierre, and he understood it all.  
"Sophie, are you being forced?" He left her hand because he felt he was going to crush it in fury if he listened to one more word.  
"No, no." She protested and of course she did, did he really think she would tell her and even so, what would he do? He felt that he might just burn down the entire house and take just Sofia away. Did they really have this girl so loyal and pure she was not willing to say anything bad about them in the face of the obvious, and they were willing to sell her for fortythree thousand roubles they would have wasted some other stupid way?  
"Well, I'm not that much of a rascal. I won't marry you if I repulse you so." She flinched at harshness of his words, her eyes full of tears and he truly would have liked to say something to comfort her, but only a bitter bark of a laughter came out. Honestly, of all the problems girls wanting to marry him for money was the last he thought he'd have. "And tell your precious cousin he can keep his money, too. I gambled with him thinking he was a man, not a lying snake who'd sell-"  
"Don't speak of him like that!" Sofia jumped on her feet, which was hardly intimidating given how small she was but she had a fury in her eyes that surprised him. It faded away in a split second, but it was still there in her tensed fists, in the broken streak of her voice. "I mean, I know you have no reason to trust me. But he never forced me. He didn't even tell me of the debt, I - I just overheard. I wrote to you all on my own."  
Suddenly her glance strangely hard to bear, but he didn't look away. "Is it true?"  
"I swear."  
He took her hand. She had flinched away the first time he had proposed, but this time she didn't. "Then you are an angel, and you have no business wasting this much love on someone who doesn't deserve you. But I think I don't need to tell you that, do I?"  
That made her blush a little, but she didn't avoid his gaze. "Maybe so."  
If she was willing to do anything for a fool who wasn't going to even thank her, could she be like that for him too if they married? What would it be like to have someone who'd love on stubbornly through the years and not get distracted with the first pretty thing that passed by, who would face anything for that love and not run off to Petersburg and leave him to die alone at the first hint of trouble?  
"Well" he forced himself and even managed to smirk "still, you don't have to do this. Didn't I write I'd do anything for you? I meant it. Let's forget I even met your family." Said at loud, it felt like something he could definitely use doing. He should have been with his regiment this whole time anyway and not here proving himself a fool to rival Anatole at sixteen with this disaster of a proposal. He turned around, clearing his mind of all this romantic nonsense, but when he put his hand on the doornail, Sophie put her hand on his arm and whispered "Wait."  
Despite himself it sent a tingle through his whole body, and when he looked at her sweet, imploring smile, the tingle turned to anger. "As you wish, Mademoiselle" _Have you not made a fool of me enough?_  
Sofia held him tighter, then she looked down, embarassed and folded her hands behind her back like a child reciting a lesson. "I am sorry if I gave you this impression, but I must say you don't repulse me at all" she said so quickly he wondered for a moment if he had imagined it all. He raised his eyebrow. "This is very sweet of you."  
She flushed at the sarcasm in his words, but when he moved to go she held him still, as stiff and stoic as a little soldier. "Monsieur Dolokhov, I rejected your proposal because I made a promise to another, and I wished with all my heart I could keep it and I wished - I wished it'd matter something if I kept it. But I- I was made to understand that even if I do, it will be all for nothing, because even if Nikolai cares to marry me, it would - displease the family, maybe tear it apart, and I won't do it." Her voice broke, and she forced her words through like they tasted bitter. "I am indebted. I am not proud of changing my mind so quickly, but a girl in my place doesn't have any business having any pride and if I can't keep this promise I have no reason not to marry you. You have done nothing that might displease me, other than not being Nikolai."  
Her hand felt like a brand on his arms, and her eyes seemed both blacker and brighter with tears, like starry skies. Damning eyes, unmanning. Did she mean it, or did she just not believe he'd do her a favor without having something back?  
"Oh, don't bother. I told you, it's fine this way. And if you want my advice, I'd not bother asking for a blessing either and just take that fool if you want him so much. If they told you you're indebted, you can't bet they won't be grateful ei-"  
Sofia kissed him, shooting on her toetips so quickly she lost her balance and leant against him. He put his hand on her waist, istinctively, feeling the hot tension of it as she strained to reach him. Her eyes were tense too, stubbornly squeezed shut and he wondered if she was picturing Nikolai in his place, but he closed his own as well and nibbled on her lip, stealing her a startled sigh. She was soft as velvet and more intoxicating than anything and she pulled away too soon, scarlet red. She swayed like a drunk, and muttered a distracted "Don't say such horrible things", looking down on her folded hands. He looked down on her pursed up lips, at the burning embarassment in her eyes and smiled. _  
You don't love me, but you want me, and I love you more than I thought I could._ He'd gambled on worse odds  
"If this is your way to do it, I'll shut up gladly."

 

Being engaged, after all, was a fairly calm affair. She supposed it would all have been messier if she had been engaged to Nikolai, though she avoided thinking about it since everytime she compared the two situations she risked to burst in either tears or laughter at the absurd of it all, and she didn't want to in front of her aunt and uncle. Mostly, she made up something about the proposal to tell Natasha, since she was far more enthusiastic about it than Sonya herself and she had no intention of spoiling her romantic ideals with the sad, boring truth of what really had happened. In everything else, life went on. Nikolai was clearly relieved to be free of the burden of her love and spoke much more freely now, like to a sister, even though Sonya now saw she would not be allowed to be his sister anymore than she could be his wife. He never thanked her, but the look of embarassment in his eyes whenever he touched the topic of her engagement gave away that he knew of the debt he owed her, and Sonya felt terribly wicked at how much it pleased her. But she supposed a scoundrel's wife had to get used to a bit of wickedness, and she didn't chastise herself over it.  
Vasili Denisov proposed to Natasha and they spent a wonderful afternoon hiding in her room, giggling incontrollably and describing all the major's good qualities with Natasha's flowery imagination and her own best attempts to match her. But the day after the childish games were over and Maman - her aunt gave Denisov a polite refusal on Natasha's behalf and Sonya thought that her cousin, bless her, was not afraid of anything and she could have refused him herself perfectly well and despite this she had all the help a mother could give while Sonya had been left alone to look ridiculous and cry all over her suitor.  
She couldn't meet anyone's eyes after thinking that, and wondered if it had already started - if all her sweetness was going to melt away and leave her bitter and ungrateful by the time she was married. But to be fair, she could not blame her engagement for this because after the first week, she tried her absolute hardest not to think about it and managed too, until the letters came from the front and there was one for the family, from Nikolai, and one just for her. Natasha begged her to read it together, but she refused even though she felt awful about it, not because she didn't want to share it, but because she was not sure she dared to read it at all.  
She hid it in her drawer and spent the rest of the afternoon furiously playing the piano as Natasha practiced her singing and drowning out all thoughts with her music and sweet familiar presence. But when the night came, she slipped in her bed with the letter in her hand, drawing her finger on the faded and crumpled edges of the envelope without daring to open it up. She lay there for much longer than she was proud to admit and she told herself she was just prolonging the pleasure of waiting, but in her heart she knew the reason - she had never had a letter just for her before.  
It was stupid, because of course Dolokhov had no reason to write to the rest of her family, otherwise he would have done no differently from Nikolai, but still, it was a gift and something someone had stopped to write thinking about her and it was just hers.  
She didn't want to see it ruined finding strange and frightening words from a man she didn't knew and had no idea what to expect from. She didn't want to be so scared all the time.  
_I'll read it tomorrow_ , she swore, but she wanted it to be a treasure and not threat a little longer, just to feel a little less alone through the nigh. She tucked it under her pillow and didn't dream of her future husband - but she didn't dream of her aunt's spiteful words either, and it was good.

 

"This was a fun night." Anatole said, yawning and attempting to take a sip from the bottle, which, given his position, ended up mostly spilling vodka all over his face and Fyodor's lap.  
"It's not really a fun night when you can't do anything that warrants demotion" he sighed. He had got his position back as quickly as the last time he had been demoted, but he didn't knew if he'd be lucky a third time without a war to prove himself in, and he really couldn't afford to go back to the ranks now. But it still had been a fun night, though, and productive too. The regiment was still full of idiots who gambled like they were to die tomorrow even if they were just stationed at the border and Sonya still had no dowry to pay for the wedding, though in his opinion if they had money to spare to gamble fortythree thousand roubles in a night, they also had to give the poor girl a dowry. But he had made no mention at all of it and absolved Nikolai of his debt anyway and rejected his joke of a challenge to a duel too, which honestly seemed to him a great effort to be a good husband and went to show he really was a changed man and he had seen heaven, just like he had told her.  
He thought he should also save up for a place of their own, but he was not sure he wanted to leave his mother and Nadja permanently without a man in the house yet. At least he thought Sofia wasn't going to mind, that she'd understand he had a duty to his family. That, or she'd be relieved at not living alone with him. That was a possibility too. At that thought, he ripped the bottle from Anatole and took a long sip.  
"What!" Anatole protested and made a truly sweet and valiant attempt to wrestle him for it, but Fyodor grinned down at him and hid it behing his back  
"It's wasted on you. You can't hold spirits anyway."  
"I'm sober."  
"You tried to take me to dance on the table." He had more than 'tried', and Fyodor had actually quite liked it too, before they had started to grab each other's waist and embrace and overall forget they were in a public place.  
"So? I had to refresh you on waltzing. You're going to have to dance at your wedding."  
That made a surprising amount of sense, so he gave him the bottle back. Anatole didn't drink and toyed with it, distracted.  
"Fedya" he said in the end, casually "we are going to have other nights like this when you're married, right?"  
Fyodor tried to imagine Sofia, little and shy and absolutely indifferent to anything about him as she was, attempting to be a nagging wife and laughed out loud. "Yes, you fool, why not?"  
He shrugged. "Hélène became strange, after she got married."  
"I'm hoping to have a better marriage than Hélène's. Or are you saying I'm as much of a catch for a young lady as Bezukhov?"  
Anatole was not impressed. "Why are you even doing this?"  
"Do you care?"  
"Yes, I'd like to know. Hélène is curious too." If Anatole had ever played games like that, he would have thought he was playing coy. He ignored that shamelessly.  
"Oh, so she had my invitation? Is she coming?"  
Anatole's shrug was eloquent.  
"Well, whatever she wants to do I guess." He had meant to sound detached, but he figured he didn't do it very well.  
"You didn't go at hers either."  
"Because I was in war!"  
"Well, she had a lot of trouble too, those days. She can't be around you a lot, you know why." It had to be a real lot of trouble if Anatole had picked it up too, or she had to be frustrated enough to tell him. For a moment he almost felt guilty at not writing to her about everything, but he pushed it back.  
"As I said, whatever she wants to do."  
Anatole frowned and was about to start arguing, but Fyodor gave him a glare and he shut up. "You still haven't answered my question."  
And I don't want to. He was marrying a woman that did not love him, no different than Bezukhov, and he didn't know if it made him more or less of a fool that he knew exactly what he was doing. He should had thought it more through, maybe, when he had written Sofia that even if she loved him a thousand part of what he loved her he would be alright. He still meant it, he still thought that a fraction of her love and goodness was worth as all of anyone else's, but he still had sometimes the suspicion it was going to end in disaster.  
"Frankly it's because I love her." He said in the end. Anatole laughed and he elbowed him. "What's to laugh at now?"  
"I thought you loved me." He giggled with a mock-hurt face. "You are breaking my heart, Fedyushka."  
"You are one to talk, in love with everyone."  
Anatole grinned as he ruffled his hair. "What can I say? I'm a better lover."  
"That's not what it means."  
"No? I'm a better lover in every sense."  
At this point Anatole's hand was wandering under his shirt and he smiled at the familiarity of his hand, at his touch always so hot and tender. Show me, then, he almost said, but there were no words needed between them.  
Anatole got his cue and strupped his shirt off entirely, tracing the lines of his chest with a serious, focused look on his face that made him laugh.  
He snorted and grabbed Anatole's hair and drew his face to his, completely lost in the dreamy, adoring look in his eyes  
"And we're going to have other nights like these too?" He whispered in his ear. Fyodor turned around and kissed him until he could no longer reasonably put it off.  
"Don't be a fool, I'm going to be married." He said in the end.  
Anatole frowned and pulled away. "You know, Hélène..."  
"Again? It was her marriage, not mine, what did I care what she did with it? Me, I'm not getting married to mess it up even before it starts." He sighed and brushed his thumb at the corner of Anatole's shocked, childlike eyes and kissed them as if to take the hurt away.  
"I'm always going to be your friend."  
He shut him up. "Don't talk me about that."  
He had to give it to him, that was a good idea. She kissed him again, harder, hoping to at least erase the worry from his head if he couldn't take it from his own.  
_I do love you._  
He knew that much was true and he could do nothing about it.  
He could not have a future with Anatole, not even just because he for obvious reason couldn't live his whole life with him, but simply because Anatole had no thought of the future at all. They had acted like they were one and the same in Petersburg - like he had no responsibilities and Anatole had no rank and all they had to do in life was get drunk and make wonderful memories to regret the morning after. But he was not that good at pretending with himself.  
_I'm always going to love you, you fool. I can never stop once I start_

 

"Another, Sonyushka!"  
Sonya shook her head so hard she got dizzy and almost stumbled as she got off the piano chair.  
"No, Natasha, I refuse, we've been singing half an hour, no one wants to listen anymore."  
Natasha pouted. "You're the bride, Sonya, everyone wants to listen to you! Tell her, mama!"  
"That's true." Her aunt agreed. "This is such a special day, my child, you should have everyone's attention. We're all so proud of you."  
The way she kissed her forehead was no different than she had always done, but she flinched a little when she remembered the last time she had been so close to her she had told her she was a little parasite, that she hadn't raised her to see her become the ruin of the family. She shouldn't have been upset - it made sense that she should be insulted when she threatened the family and praised when she did what was best, but she was still uneasy and breathed in relief when old Anna Mikhailovna pulled her away to kiss her as well. "So proud! And who thought this shy little thing would be the first to marry. And you, Vera? Isn't it time to make us proud?"  
Oh, God. Sonya tried to shoot her cousin a sympathetic glance, but Vera focused stubbornly on fixing her pearls around her neck and she honestly could not blame her.  
She still felt relieved when Natasha pulled her away and started spinning her around the room like when they were children.  
"Oh God, I'm too old for this." She cried out and clung to her not to fall in the middle of the dance floor.  
"You both are." Her aunt clucked in disapproval taking her apart, though there was that tender joking tone she always had in her voice when she was chiding Natasha. "Sonyushka, you have to find your husband and open the dances instead. It's much, much later than we should have started."  
Sonya went aflame. "I'm sorry" she mumbled, because she really had been avoiding that moment a little too much, but her aunt just waved her hand in dismissal. "It doesn't matter, my girl, just go look for your husband and get this ball started."  
She found him in a corner, toasting with a blonde young man with a pretty, smiling face. They both raised their glasses to her when they saw her and her husband grinned and said "There she is, I just wanted to introduce you. Where have you been hiding, my dear?"  
There she is? He was the one who had been hiding the whole party, judging from where they were. She frowned and opened her mouth to tell him what her aunt had said, but he spoke before she could.  
"Anatole, my wife. Sophie, my friend prince Anatole Kuragin." He said, and prince Anatole gave her husband a knowing glance that upset her and bent to kiss her hand.  
"Oh, the one..." She realized it would be inappropriate to mention and bit her lip, but she saw her husband picked it up and smiled wickedly.  
"No, my dear wife, do ask Anatole about his bright idea."  
Sonya looked at her own feet and tried the hardest to think about the devastating ending of the last opera Natasha had gone about the house singing and not about uncle Ilya making his imitation of the policeman on the back of the bear, but she giggled anyway.  
Prince Anatole was bright red. "My? I remember it was your own bright idea."  
Dolokhov scoffed. "I don't remember whose bright idea it was, but frankly if someone forces me to live with a bear in the parlor I have a right to try get rid of it. Am I wrong, Sophie?"  
She startled and tried to think up something more courteous to say than just nod in agreement, but before she did the two burst into laughter and started talk over each other and Sonya distantly asked herself what she had gotten herself into.  
"What do you to say now, you killjoy, isn't a live bear a better trophy than a pelt?"  
"What trophy, didn't you bought it from a gipsy girl?"  
"She gave it to me! You are just jealous she liked me better." Sonya blushed and coughed, but they were evidently too loud to hear her.  
"Yes, the poor country girl must never have seen a man in her life."  
"It was in Petersburg!"  
"Exactly. There are no handsome men out of Moscow." He said, nd gave Sonya a glance she maybe should have replied to, but just left her staring down and wondering if it would be so bad for a bride to open the dances with Petya instead. Or, frankly, if the ballroom floor could just swallow her whole and save her from this.  
Anatole begun to protest something, but shushed him and finally had the grace to take her hand. "Go ask some girl to dance if you want to prove me wrong, will you? I am busy here."  
He was a wonderful dancer. Sonya would be too, if she wasn't a bit dizzy from the wine and flustered and excited by all the eyes on her, but she held her own and when he kissed her in the part of the dance when they were closest she even managed to joke and asked if this was a part of the waltz she had forgotten, and he smirked and kissed her again.  
She sighed in disappointment when the music stopped and the other dancing couples started to break and crowd around her.  
Again? She remembered having received a lot of congratulations already, but decided it didn't matter at all and smiled and let herself be kissed for what seemed like hours. At the end she was so hot and tired she was almost leaning over her husband, who at least didn't seem to mind, though he has an exasperated look in his eyes that only faded a bit when it was her mother in laws's turn to kiss her tearfully and declare she was the savior of the family and that she had been despairing to see her son married.  
"She won't say, but she means she didn't think you wouldn't live to get married." Her sister in law whispered into her husband's ear when the crowd faded out a little, mussing his hair like she did with Petya and Sonya courteously looked down in order not to laugh in his face.  
"I'm going to step on your feet for this." Dolokhov said and led her to the dance floor.  
He was really a good dancer, she mused, especially considering he was mostly the only one doing anything and his sister clearly had not had the chance to dance much in the last years.  
She wondered if she should tell him what a good dancer and what a sweet brother he was, later, but then she thought what later would be and as she scrambled furiously to erase that from her mind she felt an hand on her shoulder.  
"Will you dance with me?" Nikolai smiled and Sonya flushed hot, realizing suddenly she should not have been standing in the middle of the ballroom staring at her own wedding.  
She should have refused him, she knew she was so filled with a warm feeling and dancing with Nikolai was going to waste it all, but how could she refuse him? It had been easy to try to ignore him when he was with his regiment, but now she had no excuse.  
She let him take her hand and and wrenched her eyes away from his, trying to focus on catching up with the dance.  
"You are such a lovely bride." He broke the silence and she knew full well that he meant in the same way he would tell Natasha, but her heart fluttered all the same and she avoided his glance. "Thank you."  
"I'm so happy for you." Sonya missed her step so ridiculously she almost fell straight down in his arms. What a stupid girl she was. Hadn't every single person in this room said the same thing? Why should this be different? Why did she think she had right to think this was different? "Thank you."  
"I always thought you should marry him, you recall? I would not have deserved, I told you, I would have led you on. But he deserves you."  
He went on with that sweet and passionate look in his eyes she used to love so much and she laughed, half desperate, though he didn't know why. Of course he was going to be such a pure and noble soul and keep saying good things about a man who had tricked him and tried his best to ruin him. Of course he wasn't going to let her do this without feeling foul and guilty.  
She waited for the dance to end and then she embraced him like a sister and asked him to please be gallant, and get her another glass.

 

Sonya stood alone in the dimly lit room and fidgeted with the lacing of her wedding dress. Her maid had laced it on in her old house and Natasha put the pins in her hair, but here she was alone. Was she supposed to take it off or was Dolokhov - her husband - going to take it off her? The thought made her the dress feel suddenly very tight and hot and she all but ripped it off and lay it on the chair in the corner of the room. But in just her underskirt she didn't feel any more comfortable.  
Slowly, awakwardly, she took that off too and sat down on the bed, looking down on her bare breasts - _small and dark and that Nikolai would never see or touch_ \- she shook her head, pushing it out.  
The door creaked, and Sonya jumped and pulled the sheet to cover herself up. She imagined his eyes on her and shivered and curled up on the other side, her heart racing.  
Should she get up and kiss him? Oh, he had to think she was completely mad, she had jumped in her arms before they were engaged and now she was afraid on her wedding night, but she felt dizzy and glued to the bed, and the only thing she could do was stare like a fool as he unbuttoned his uniform jacket. The shadow danced on his chest as he took off his shirt and she followed the sharp lines of it, enraptured, until he - Dolokhov, her husband - met her glance and smirked and she realized she had sat up to stare, her sheet fallen off and all of her naked body exposed.  
"Please" she whispered, having no further dignity.  
"What have you said, my love?" He arched his eyebrow, amused and Sonya suddenly remembered with how many women he had done this already, and that he was expecting to have a good time and she had absolutely no idea what to do.  
"Please come here" she said trying to make her voice not that of a scared little girl but a woman, but she didn't quite dare call him love and ended up saying "husband."  
He sat on the bed, but on the other side, still unreachable and smirking with no mercy for her at all.  
"Now, Fyodor at least."  
She sighed and extended her hand. "Please, please Fedya come here."  
He came, wrapping his arms around her waist and his touch  
twisted something in her so hard she kept babbling until  
he silenced her with a kiss. She tangled her hands in his curls - so soft, and beautiful could she tell him that, was that something men liked to hear? - and she let herself float, so light and dreamy she almost screamed when he withdrew a little and and left her cold.  
He had a faint suspicion he was doing it on purpose.  
"You are good." She said when he started unpinning down his braid and playing with her hair. "You used do it to countess Bezukhov?"  
He startled a little and Sonya giggled. That's what you get for leaving me hanging. "Oh, hush."  
She frowned. "I can't say anything at all?" The reminder she knew nothing lingered on her and made her blush when he laughed at her.  
"You are a little drunk, aren't you?"  
She tried to think up something to defend herself, but ended up saying " _You are drunk."_  
He pulled her hair a little. "I have not been drunk since I was sixteen."  
She crossed her arms over her breasts. "Well, I'm eighteen" she said casually "maybe when I'm your age I won't get drunk anymore either."  
He took out the last pin and ran his fingers through her hair."I'd wait until all your cousins are married for that. You are going to need it to go through four more of this."  
That was unfair, she had liked the wedding a lot - the singing and dancing and all her relatives fawning over her. Maybe that's why he had not liked it much - because almost all the relatives were hers and loved her so much, much more than they have ever had before. That made her sad and she wrapped her arms around him. At least now her family was going to be his. She considered telling him that, but she decided to kiss him again instead. "Relentless" he said, amused, and slipped his hand on the edge of her drawers.  
She flinched away istinctively, but then realized it was the purpose of the entire thing and felt fairly stupid. She let him come close again and he kissed her neck and touched her again, slower and more gently this time.  
"You trust me?" She did not especially in a general sense, but she did trust that he knew what he was doing, so she tangled her hands into his hair and closed her eyes and let herself float away through it all and when the intensity of her own scream frightened her and brought tears to her eyes, he kissed them away and she let herself scream with all her satisfaction.  
Definitely, definitely he knew what he was doing, she thought as she rolled off on her side, breathless.  
There was a burning between her legs and she dizzy with the intensity of it all, but it was beautiful and when they lay together, barely touching she felt almost glad she had done this.  
There was a faint trace of blood on the sheet. _Was that meant for Nikolai,_ Sonya thought following it with her finger. Natasha had told her a fantasy she had once, that their souls had lived and known each other before already and she thought that this was the reason her uncle had taken her in - that before she was born she had been meant to meet Nikolai. _  
It's so stupid. I would never had met him if my parents hadn't died_ she told herself severely, but a tear still escaped her and Fyodor wiped it before she could. "Did I hurt you?" he whispered.  
"No." She remembered she was supposed to be kind and added "I had a very, very good time."  
He had such a lovely smile there in private, with no bitterness to it and just the right amount of arrogance.  
"I love you."  
"Oh" Sonya froze, and she felt all the carefreeness of the wine shrink and drip down her throat, leaving her wordless. It had seemed so simple to be happy about this under the light of the ballroom, with Natasha and Nikolai there. "I love you" she said back, but she knew even before she said it that she had hesitated too much. Fyodor's smile split in half, only a faint amused trace left at the corner of his mouth.  
"You don't. That's all right, you don't have to humor me. You can't love halfway, I suppose."  
Sonya thought of Nikolai's kisses when she was still a girl and believed they were more than halfway felt, of Natasha's flights of fancy. "A lot of people can."  
"But you don't." Sonya bit her lip and lowered her eyes from her husband's ice cold stare.  
"You must think I'm a real fool." She wished she could tell him that she wasn't, that she knew that going on like this wasn't going to get her anywhere, but it was the only thing she could to that gave her pride, to love and be loyal. Maybe he understood. There was no mockery in his voice.  
"No" he said. "Of course you are not going to love me just because I'm here in front of you and he's not, especially if he's so... deserving."  
She thought he was angry at her, and for a moment she saw it all in a flash: he would hit her and she would go crying to Nikolai who would take revenge for her dishonor and free her from this disaster of a marriage. But in her husband's eyes there was no anger, nothing at all, just glassy blue. He just shrugged and rolled on his back and didn't look at her anymore.  
Of course. Of course. Sonya didn't know why she had thought he would hit her. She was the one who had done a cruel thing here. She looked at him in a corner of her eye, the sharp lines of his face and his soft honey curls, such an hard handsome soldier and unafraid of anything - he could have had a lot of people who loved him at least halfway. He deserved someone who loved at least halfway, why had he married her? Did countess Bezukhov love him and found him to low to marry - like Nikolai, she almost thought, but she shouldn't have because Nikolai would never have such base thoughts and because Nikolai didn't love her. But even if it was the case, he loved Sonya, whether halfway or entirely or just a little bit it was still enough to make this marriage a cruel, horrible thing - why had she done this? It had seemed the best thing she could do at the time. Was it her who was cruel, a cruel selfish girl who would ruin someone's life just out of spite and not wanting to die an old maid? _An ungrateful little scheming snake who charmed her way-_ "I'm sorry." She sobbed into her pillow, and she felt his hand brush her shoulder and bit her lip not to cry out or recoil.  
_I'm the one who doesn't deserve you._

 

"It's not going to change anything if I'm your second, Anatole. How do you think dueling works?"  
Anatole buried his face in his hands and rubbed his forehead nervously. Did he think Fyodor was going to abandon him to his destiny, even if he had wanted? That annoyed him.  
"All the gipsy girls in Moscow would take you in their beds for free." Clever girls, and understandable "Why did you have to get yourself in this mess with a married woman?"  
"You do it all the time!"  
"I _did_ it all the time, and because I could handle it."  
Anatole scoffed in utter indignation even though, logically, it seemed pretty obvious and no great shock that if he could have handled it he wouldn't have come to Fyodor begging for help as usual, and went to the door.  
"Oh, come here" he started, and at the very moment the door opened from outside and Anatole bumped into Sofia.  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She said, flustered and looked like she was about to run away, so Fyodor took her hand and led her in the room.  
"I thought you were asleep" he said, and kissed her. She didn't flinch for him nor show any sign she was liking it, and he had to fight himself not to get stubborn and stay in that position until she did either. "Are you embarassed just because Anatole's here? He's hardly worth that." He added, smiling, to save face he didn't know if with her, with himself or with Anatole. It was hard, always having to keep himself in rein so he wouldn't beg for a scrap of her affection and humiliate himself, and the more he did the more he loved her and the harder it became. It was as beautiful and intense, to love so much, but God, was it tiring to be always fighting a battle in his own home.  
"He is going away anyway" he added. Anatole's eyes widened, so he embraced him and whispered in his ear. "I'm doing it, you fool, you know I can't say no to you. But I'm aiming to his arm, I can't have trouble now." Anatole clutched his hand aand for a moment he thought he was going to forget himself and kiss him, but he just smiled at him gratefully and left. _  
Eight in the morning, at Soloniski, just like the old times._ It was much less exciting when he couldn't take credit for it, but well. He turned to Sofia.  
"I am sorry for having guests so late. You know how Anatole is." He said, even though he was quite certain she did not and had no interest in knowing. "Where were you all this time?"  
Sofia fidgeted with the end of her braid, biting her lip. "Still at my uncle's. We started singing and I lost track of time."  
Of course. Sometimes he almost wish she was having a lover instead of having just no interest in being with him at all, at least that was a situation he could remedy with a bullet and escape with some dignity left.  
"Well, I hope you had a good time."  
She nodded, but did not seem inclined to go away. She took a couple steps back and forth, and huddled in the armchair were Anatole had sat. "What..." she begun, and trailed off. "Why was he here at this hour?"  
"He asked me for a favor..."  
Was that something he could tell her? Before he had proposed, when he had stopped to consider their possible future together, he had supposed his past could pose somewhat of a problem for her, that we would earn her forgiveness. Evidently he had thought himself more important and scandalous than he really was, because in fact the situation was that getting her to slap him and call him a scoundrel would have been a pleasant change from the usual indifference.  
"He was challenged to a duel, and I know he's going to get himself killed, and this man never saw him, he sent him the challenge by letter, so I'm taking it up for him."  
He didn't want exactly what he expected - maybe indifference, or maybe not quite the slap and screamed insults but something similar. Sofia just looked very bewildered.  
"Can't he do this on his own?"  
A fair point. _As wise as you are lovely. ?_ < He sighed. "My l- my dear, I ask him all the time. But you see, I'm better than he is, it's just the best for everyone. Why are you so cross with him?"  
Sofia blushed. "I am not, I barely know him. I just think he has no reason to ask this of you."  
_Oh, yes, I remember the sort of stupid boys you prefer is the one that think they are great soldiers who don't need anyone_ he thought, and angrily pushed it back. "Well, he did not force me. But for me it's not hard, and he would get himself killed."  
"You... you are a good friend." She said, with a little smile, looking absolutely unconvinced. Her hand was still in his, and he didn't want to let it go just yet.  
"What, are you worried?" he went on. "You don't have to. I lost the last time because I underestimated my adversary and I let him shoot first. But I learnt my lesson."  
"I am not worried." Sofia said, and then blushed and smoothed her hair again. "I mean, because I don't have to be. Not because..." she curled up tighter and looked down. He sighed.  
"Good. You are not even going to notice I went."  
Sofia nodded, a little more reassured, but when he said goodnight and turned around she grasped his hand again and then looked down, as if it was something beyond dirty and embarassing to do with her own husband. "And you are not going to get yourself arrested, either, right?"  
She had such a frightened look on her face he had to remind himself that she didn't know him (though absolutely of her own choice and no fault of his own, to be fair) and it wasn't an insult to him personally that she didn't trust him.  
"Sophie, I know what I'm doing, all right? You..." you don't have to love me, he almost said and bit his tongue. It was no reason to be pathetic. "You have to trust me. That's all I ask, you have to believe I didn't marry you to make you suffer and put you in trouble."  
She lowered her eyes and for a moment he thought he had moved her. "Oh, it doesn't matter for me." She said in the end it really took all of his power not to scoff to her face. Had he thought this was a battle? Pierre used to say living with Hélène was a battle in his vain efforts to look for manly comraderie and she did was a battle when she was in a mood, and Anatole too could get like that. It was part of life. This wasn't a battle though - this was laying in a trench waiting for death and definitely not how he had planned to spend his life.  
"All right."  
"I didn't want to bother you."  
He rubbed his forehead. "All-"  
"I asked you all those question just because you see since we are going to have a child-"  
" _What?_  
" He thought he had misheard her for a moment, since she was still stubbornly talking fast and not looking at him, but she saw the sweet embarassed look on her face. He threw his arms around her neck and his heart jumped in a strange and probably pathetic way when she embraced him back.  
"I can't believe it." He muttered, though it was stupid, of course that was something that people reasonably expected to happen, and yet - it seemed so strange he really had put his life together enough for this, his own child, and his mother was going to die of happiness and Sonya had so much joy and love in her face it really didn't matter if it wasn't for him.  
She had never looked more beautiful than this, wide eyes and with her hair mussed by his embrace.  
"I love you." He said, for the first time since their disaster of a wedding night. He shouldn't - only a fool wastes love of someone who won't give it back - but what did he care about playing by the rules for? Sonya had no right to judge him when she did less than anyone, that little stubborn fool. And if they were to be parents it was probably time he stopped playing games with his love. 

__In the pale rosy light of the dawn the garden of her uncles' country house looked like an entirely different place from the one where she had ran and played with Nikolai and Natasha so many times.  
She hadn't seen its beauty like now, clearly, or she never would have dared to disturb it - the dew on every thread of grass, the curve of the blossoms, everything made her feel like she was in a sacred place, not somewhere she was supposed to do something as base as walking, but that she should love, worship, save up in a painting if she had been good enough.  
Maybe it was that she was there not as a child but with her own child now, and that she was alone with a man, even though she supposed said man being her husband could have taken away something of the poetry of it.  
"Thank you" she felt the need to say "for coming here."  
She was pretty sure he hadn't liked much the idea, but she had figured out he couldn't deny her anything since she had told him she was with child. Still he kept it for himself fairly well, he just half smiled and stroked her cheek.  
"We are going to have our own country house one day."  
Sonya would rather just stay here with her family and she would have said it, that it didn't matter, but she thought it might humiliate him and bent down to pick a violet instead.  
She tried, at least - she didn't trust herself to be able to hold the baby with just one hand and she ended up half squatting on the grass, staring down and fumbling to get out of that position. Fyodor scoffed at that. "Can't you ask?"  
He leant down and she thought he'd pick the violet, but instead she took the baby from her arms so she could do it on his own. She ran her hand on the velvety petals and smiled a little, looking at how her husband peeked into the bundle of blanket to find her face and ran his finger over her little nose. She didn't often have any idea of what he was thinking and often she didn't even particulary want to know, but in that moment she was almost sure he felt exactly what she felt when she held the baby to her breast, nothing more and nothing less. She was glad of it. She felt less filthy over this whole marriage, if she had managed to make him happy."  
"We're going to have to baptize her in a few days. She should have a name."  
Sonya shrugged. He wasn't wrong. She was pretty sure she had several conversation about this with Natasha when she was a child, but now she felt stupid to suggest anything.  
"I can't believe you didn't think about it at all."  
"I thought you'd decide. You're the father."  
"So you say" He had a gentle teasing tone, but Sonya still felt herself blush and sighed, annoyed with herself. "I just thought you'd have more time to think of it. I was with the army."  
Was he calling her lazy now? Sonya crossed her arms and forced herself to look up at him, straight in the eye. "It's peacetime, you weren't any busier than me."  
That made him laugh. "You are a merciless woman, my love." She liked the sound of his laughter and she didn't even flinch at the last word. She imagined Nikolai in his place, who would have felt wounded in the pride and felt the need to explain to her the hardships of military life instead, and giggled to herself grateful for the small mercies of her marriage. "Well, I don't know. Natalya, maybe, if I had to choose one."  
"No, Sophie, I won't stand for this. We both know your cousin and we both know she's going to name her own daughter after herself too, and then what will happen when we meet with your family and there are four Natalya's? What then?"  
She tried to frown at him, but she giggled and covered her mouth with her hand. "You are an awful scoundrel."  
"So I have been told." Sonya shivered when he slid his arm on her shoulders, but she liked it, though it was beyond unjust that he was better at holding babies than she was.  
"What was your mother's name? Not your aunt, I mean."  
"Oh." She, for some reason, blushed as if he had asked her to have her right her in the garden under her aunt's window. They had been married almost an year, had she really talked to him so little? "Lyubov."  
He smiled. "Seems fitting to me."  
"That's too..." _sweet, and I have not deserved it._  
She bit her lip and wrung her hands together, trying to muster a response that didn't make her look like a complete fool, but sometimes she thought she would have felt less guilty if this marriage could have been the way she had thought in her worse nightmares, an eternal penance for forsaking Nikolai.  
"It's my aunt that raised me anyway."  
"God, Sophie, I have told you any name but Natalya." He complained, but there was an harsher look in his eyes now that she thought she understood and she had to think, thought she felt awful, that it would have been for Natasha and not for her aunt at all if she had called this girl Natalya. But it still felt strange.  
"No, we should name her for your mother. I don't even remember mine." She did a little - very vague memories of her singing her to sleep when she was just three, and a much too vivid one of her cheerful eyes, black as her own, when she told her she was going to have a brother, just weeks before her death. But it was not enough to matter. She told him that.  
"So? That's the point. You should have something to remember her by." She felt strange and awkward when his hand brushed over hers - _it doesn't matter, really, it's been so long,_  
but she found she liked that and said nothing. "We can name our next girl Marya anyway."  
_I'm going to die of happiness if we have other girls._  
She smiled, and felt bold and happy and she clutched his hand tighter._ _

__

__"I leave her alone a week and everything happens!"  
Sonya wiped her eyes against the baby's blanket and took a deep breath, but didn't feel quite ready to stop. If she stopped crying out, she'd have to think about what to do, and Ivan slept heavier than Lyubov and didn't seem to mind being the child of a screaming madwoman, so she went on. "No one notices anything in this house! It's all on me! I'm this family's only shield against disaster!"  
"That's a lot of disaster for a little thing like you."  
Sonya yelped in surprise and bent down to kiss Ivan's little head, furtively rubbing her eyes dry. Her husband, the absolute rake, smiled at her without showing the slightest shame for eavesdropping and embraced her from behind. "You are going to make me drop the baby." She said, but the complaint died on her lips when he kissed her neck, together with any intention she might have had to defend her family's intelligence, thought she realized it would be fairly hypocritical of her to do so after her discovery. She sighed, trying to clear her head.  
Would he help me if I asked? He might. I did not marry you to make you suffer and put you in trouble.  
"Fedya" She said "Have you been speaking to Anatole?"  
"Well, he's pretty hard to avoid." The corner of his mouth quirked up with a fondness that made Sonya's stomach turn. Did he knew? Was it possible he didn't know?"  
"Darling, I..." she didn't want to do this. It was supposed to be Nikolai protecting his sister's honor, she thought and then realized it wasn't his fault if he wasn't here, but still, why did she always have to do the hardest thing? "Fedya, yesterday Natasha confided me something and... it's probably ridiculous." She took a deep breath and said it all without stopping because otherwise she was never going to say it.  
"I think she had... something happened to her, I don't know, it's unlike her. She has been writing to Anatole, and I don't know what happened but they are planning to elope now."  
It didn't even feel real. How was that something that had happened to her family and not in some terrible french novel? But Fedya didn't seem surprised - just very exasperated.  
"Believe me, I am trying to talk him out of this."  
_Oh, thank you, her heart overflowed with relief for a moment, hopeful he would deal with it. Then she thought better about it. "What, you knew? It's my cousin, you should have told me!"  
"Well, did she tell you?"  
That gave her a pause. "No" she admitted "I read her letter."  
"See? It's not for you to worry about her. She doesn't want you to, evidently." His voice softened and he caressed her face. "You just gave birth, Sonyushka, this is not your responsibility."  
She shook her head. "I know. But who else is going to do anything? I could tell Marya Dmitryevna but she'd scold her, and she'll hate me for it. No, I have to stop her, she'll regret this her whole life.  
"Why do you think she'd regret it? It doesn't seem to me Anatole is forcing her at gunpoint."  
"It's obvious she'll regret it! She's young, and she's already engaged and this is going to ruin her life..."  
"Well, will she?" He brushed his hand on her shoulder, but Sonya shrugged him off and went to lay Vanya in the cradle before she dropped him for real. "Love, I'm not saying this is a good idea. But if she really thinks this is in fact a good idea, she might be the girl more suited for Anatole I've ever met."  
"So I should just let her dig her own grave."  
"You said so, she's the one digging it. If she's taking so much effort to do it, maybe she just prefers to be ruined than to get married. That's how stupid people madly in love are sometimes, you just to have them get what they deserve." He took her hand and rubbed his thumb into her palm. "She's not a little girl anymore, Sonya. It's not you who should be worrying about this."  
Sonya r1ubbed her temples and made to sit, but changed her mind and kept walking back and forth. Could it be he was right and she was the one who was being cruel and indifferent to the beauty of young love? She shook her head.  
"No, I know her, she wants to get married. If Andrey hadn't left for the year-"  
"How many years did you wait for Nikolai?"  
She almost screamed at him then, but she was mute with rage. _And you, have you always planned on playing games on your own wife like this?_ She hated herself that it worked after so many years, and wiped a tear away so furiosly she scratched her face. She could try play games too.  
"If it was your sister about to ruin her own life, you'd just let her be and not worry?"  
"No, because my sister is a sensible person and I know she would regret it." Sonya stared at him wide eyed, but she honestly couldn't tell if he was smirking at her or not, but his eyes had that strange playful light that should have made her entire body tingle with pleasure and now just made her want to throw something at him. She dug her nails in the palm of her hand instead. _Since I laid my eyes on you, my fate is sealed, I will give my life for you._  
So many sweet words, and she stupider than Natasha, stupider than little Petya to believe them - a memory ran over her like cold sweat, freezing her over. _My fate has been sealed, to be loved by you or die._ You wrote his letter for him?"  
He laughed at that, but he hesitated a second and she knew and her heart sunk. "He's so madly in love he won't even write his own love letter? This is how you talked him out of it?" She finally laughed and was horrified at how bitter she sounded. "And isn't he married too? You were... I was giving birth to our son and you were arranging to make my cousin to elope with a married man?" _I am a changed man, I have seen heaven._  
A stupid, complete fool. Hadn't she already been fooled by it once? "Fedya, you can't tell me this makes any sense. He is acting like a child. If he really loved her he would not want to see her ruined, right? He'd come to the house and ask for her hand..." Her voice died in her throath. What did she know of what went through the head of this kind of men? It was Fedya who was supposed to know, to help her. But he clearly didn't want too.  
"And he is a scoundrel who shouldn't be trusted with a young lady?" He looked at her with so much ice in his eyes Sonya felt it pricking her skin. "Tell me, you regret marrying me so much?"  
_No_  
Sonya almost screamed and it shocked her to understand it was true. _You're not a scoundrel to me, you can't love halfway._  
She realized and it sunk deep to her heart and she realized that she was never going to say it to him now.  
"This doesn't have anything to do with it. Why can't you just say "No, I am not going to help you" and see if he goes on anyway?"  
Why you can't and I must? Why do I have to make my best friend hate me and you don't dare to? "You are supposed to be a soldier." She meant to scream but she ended up saying in a mousy, resigned whisper.  
"I promised him, he's going to ruin his own life, should I let him get arrested?"  
"Nobody is forcing him to go with this elopment, right? Maybe that's right what you should do. Have him get what he deserves." She sounded so spiteful she didn't recognize herself and Fyodor winced at first, but his expression went hard and cold as stone.  
"Maybe you would like me better if I was a man who makes promises just for show? Yes, I think that's what you like."  
How dare you make it about this?  
"You have known me six years" she said, breathless, unable to keep it in. "I hoped you'd know I was loyal."  
He smiled bitterly. "I know you're loyal to who you love."  
Her heart felt like stone. _I do love you, for what little difference it ever made to anyone who I love and who I don't._  
There was no use being kind if it was like this. There had never been any use.  
"I would just like a man who said he didn't marry me to make me suffer and meant it."  
He jumped on his feet and Sonya flinched when he walked next to her on the way to the door - she though it was subtle but he saw and smiled bitterly.  
"What, you're afraid of me now?" A terrifying smile went up his face, freezing her on the spot. "No, don't be. You see, I'm your husband no matter what."  
I know. I love you. She whispered into the palm of her hand. She felt about to cry, but she didn't. It was just the bare truth. _I love you, I love you and I should have told you, I love you and it doesn't matter at all.__ It really didn't matter at all right now who she loved and who she didn't and what she had planned to do with her life. She had ruin to stop and no one else was going to do it and nothing else could matter. __

__

__Dear ~~Thèo~~ ~~Fedya~~ Thèo  
(I know you don't like it but I think if you get this letter you can no longer berate me about it, right?) please don't be offended about the will. I swear it's just I really don't have anyone to leave what I have to anymore, just maybe a few other people and they all don't need it or don't deserve it. I'm not saying you you need it but ~~  
you need it the most~~ you deserve it the most. I hope you're not stupid about this and you remember me and how I loved you, and also how Anatole loved you because the little fool didn't leave a letter for anyone, can you believe I have to think of everything for him even now? Maybe it's better I'm following so close after him.  
There is something else too. I don't know if you'll be happy about this but I won't leave it with Pierre since this is all his fault and I won't leave it to the father because I don't know who he is but whoever he is he doesn't deserve what I had to die for.  
There are my parents but it's very hard to do to what my parents want and I really did my best but it didn't turn out well, maybe this baby could be better at it than me or Hyppolite or Anatole and in that case I guess it would be nice but I can't be sure so "calculating the risk" as you'd say the best idea is to give it to you (will you teach it to play cards like you taught me? I'd like it. It was the only thing I could beat Pierre at)  
I have written the address in another page because I  hope  you will want to keep this letter but the midwife asked me to burn the address. Isn't it very stupid? If I was a paesant the one good thing would be that I wouldn't have to worry about what people say. I really wished I worried less. I didn't come to see you even when I thought you were dying because people were talking and I didn't go to Anatole in Petersburg because I was frightened they would say that horrible thing about us again and now he really did die and maybe he didn't even remember my face. But it's all over. They can't talk about us now so I'm not afraid of telling you this.  
I suppose maybe they could talk about you but I know you don't care (bless you! I'd never tell Anatole but if I was a man sometimes I wish I was like you). Maybe you'd care about your wife but if she's so good as you say she'll understand. Maybe. I don't know, I just hope you will be happy and can be happy for us too. I think it should have been Anatole who lived and was happy for both of us too since he was younger and he was so happy all the time, but I guess it's never how it should be, right? I'm just happy I can see him again at least, but I'll miss you ~~  
and I hope you'll miss me.~~  
Please be happy. ~~I love you~~  
I love you.  
Hélène  
_  
_

____

____

__

__" "Sofia, God knows I have done nothing to deserve your trust, but I am telling the truth. I was loyal to you, it's not my child."  
Sonya's looked older in the black of mourning and she could see the weight of the war he had hoped to protect her from on her shoulders, but her eyes were still a girl's, wide and fearful, filled with tears. "It is" she said with a faint, frightened voice he had thought she didn't feel the need to use with him anymore, looking away. He should not have told her at once, he saw it now, or maybe he should have come home with the child in his arms and given her no choice, but how could he? This was not some stupid dandy to swindle of his money, this was his wife. He couldn't trick her.  
"No, it's true. I made a promise to take care of him, but he's not mine. I can't break a promise." Not a promise to Anatole and Hélène at least, but what did that mean to Sonya? She had probably sighed in relief to hear he was dead, and he couldn't manage to be angry but he wished he could show her his sweetness, the way he couldn't bear to see anyone unhappy, the resignation in his eyes when he'd begged him to look after his sister and kissed him the last time as if, of all the pleasures he could have in the life he was leaving, all his wealth and glory and reputation he was the thing he'd miss the most. He wished he could tell her of Hélène, not the bored girl he'd bedded a couple of times so long ago but the angry ghost that no longer bothered to smile and mince her words - _if you'd been a better shot and made a widow this wouldn't have happened to me, I left you my brother to protect, why are you such a lousy soldier when it really matters?_  
He had hoped they could raise this baby so much, he had thought about it everytime he went to Anatole's grave - he kept thinking about his breathtaking smiles and Hélène's rare, wild bursts of genuine laughter, how they would be as happy as he had been with his own babies and what a mother and what an uncle they could have been, spoiled and irresponsible children as they were and it was the only thought that managed to make him smile for a long time.  
But he was not going to do it, tell her any of this.  
He had married her knowing all he brought to the table was a promise to be faithful, and to be strong. He wasn't going to beg her forgiveness with pity. He stood back. "You're free to not believe me."  
"Oh, you fool, you think I care..." Sofia laughed, pressing her forehead to his, and he realized he had forgotten how sweet it felt. "If we raise this boy, you have to promise me it's ours. Not our nephew, not our ward. Our baby."  
When she kissed him back he thought for a moment he was going to cry and there was nothing he could do. He hadn't thought it was possible to love her more than the first time he had met her, but here he did and if she didn't, it was nothing to him. But instead, he laughed like he hadn't in a long time and she joined him, timid and hesitant but definitely laughing with him.  
"We could call him Pyotr. He was a good kid. Easily my favorite of your family."  
Her eyes brightened, half with laughter half with tears, but she shook her head.  
"No, no. From what I heard, she wouldn't want to call her son like her husband. Either we keep his promise well or we don't do it at all."  
He kissed her hand. "You are an angel. I feel I can't tell you enough."  
"No, no." she said, blushing. "Nikolai he - he called me that."  
"So what? Everyone who sees you should say it. That's what you are."  
"No, you shouldn't" she sniffled. "Don't. It's the easiest, stupidest thing to love someeone who has no one in the world."  
It sounded true, when she said it. It made him wanted to smile despite everything.  
"Anatole, then?"  
Her hand stiffened into his. "Maybe I'm not that good."  
He's dead and Natasha is engaged and going on with her life.  
"I understand." He forced himself to say. You are as stubborn with hate as with love. He guessed it was his own fault for getting her hate instead of her love. "Can you make your suggestion or do I have to go on forever?" He added bitterly when she didn't reply.  
Sonya sighed. "No, I am being stupid. Anatole, is just fine. Either we keep this promise well or not at all. But..." she leaned closer to him  
and caressed his cheek. "You are going to have to tell me why. How you became so much friends, about when you were young. I was scared to ask you anything, but I'm not a girl anymore,  
right? I want to know you."  
He flinched for a moment at her words, trying to understand if she knew, if someone had told her anything, but he didn't see any malice in her. Just curiosity and willingness to try harder and - love, maybe, for the first time.  
_Six year after and starting anew._  
Well, better. They had started badly enough the first time  
"Yes, we'll tell each other everything." He said, and then, a bitter smile on his lips "We live to love another day."  
She smiled and bent down to kiss the tears away from his eyes. _ _


End file.
